


Match the Carpet

by Owlship



Series: In the Middle of Our Street [3]
Category: Mad Max Series (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Curtain Fic, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Kid Fic, One day I will stop writing kid fics I swear, Petshop AU, They literally buy curtains that's it that's the fic, Trope Bingo Round 5
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-14
Updated: 2015-10-14
Packaged: 2018-04-26 06:44:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4994227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Owlship/pseuds/Owlship
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The reason why Max finds himself at a home furnishings store looking over seemingly endless rows of near-identical curtains is, in short: Dag happened.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Match the Carpet

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the "Curtainfic" square on my [trope_bingo](http://trope-bingo.dreamwidth.org/) [card](http://v8roadworrier.dreamwidth.org/417.html). I don't think I was supposed to take it _quite_ this literally but, eh. Who's gonna stop me?
> 
> Set about a year into the epilogue of [Around the Corner](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4554561), this is 100% pure shameless domesticity fluff.

The reason why Max finds himself at a home furnishings store looking over seemingly endless rows of near-identical curtains is, in short: Dag happened. Her project for the school's upcoming science fair was supposed to be a lemon-powered lightbulb, but had instead somehow morphed into something capable of setting itself, and the surrounding area, on fire.

Thankfully Furiosa was there to smother the flames before any serious damage was done, but the end result was that the living room now has a long scorched mark across the floor, couch cushions in need of re-covering, and no more curtains.

“They're too yellow,” Capable says helpfully, leaning against the shopping cart with her mobile in hand, intermittently either texting with Nux or pretending to pay very close attention to the options at hand.

“The color's fine,” Furiosa says, letting the fabric fall from her fingers back to the display rack, “But why are they so expensive?”

Max checks the price tag; it's not outrageous, considering how nice the cloth feels, but it is more than he'd expected to pay, not that he has much experience in the matter. Truthfully this is the first time he's ever gone shopping for something like this- his flats have always either been furnished, or there'd been hand-me-downs to be had, and he wasn't particularly fussy in terms of decorating.

As strange as it is to be here deliberating over window treatments, of all things, Max finds that he really does want to get it right. It's the first time that he'll be furnishing a space not just for himself, but one to be shared with other people. And not just anyone, but a family- _his_ family. He could care less about the color or fabric length or whatever qualities these curtains are divided up by, but he wants to make the house look and feel nice for the sake of the girls he's starting to consider his daughters.

“I don't like them,” Cheedo declares, which causes Toast to sigh.

“Just a few errands,” she grumbles under her breath, still loud enough for them all to hear, “Of course we'll be back by eight! Ugh.” He remembers her saying something about an online thing she wanted to be home for, and wonders how large a fit she'll throw if they stay out much longer.

Only Dag and Angharad were back at the house, the latter declaring that she couldn't care less what curtains they came back with since she'd be moving out soon anyway, and the former still grounded. They'd given Toast a chance to stay as well, but she insisted that she wanted a say in the decision.

Max moves to the next set on the display, a bright sort of blue with wobbly purple dots.

“No,” Furiosa says before any of them have a chance to speak up, “Just- no.”

“Why can't we just get the ones we had before?” Toast asks, tone just shy of a whine.

Furiosa sighs, “Keep made them back when she bought the house. Frankly, I'm surprised they lasted as long as they did.”

The last set on this display rack are some sort of gauzy, lacy fabric that wouldn't do much of anything to block light nor peering eyes, and no one bothers commenting on them.

“Could we make our own?” Capable asks, turning to the next display, “That could be fun.”

“I'm not going to do it, and none of you know how to sew,” Furiosa points out, which doesn't seem to deter the teenager at all.

“I could learn! It's a useful skill, anyway.”

Max does actually agree on that point; he himself knows how to handle a sewing needle with passable enough skill to mend minor rips and tears, and has been very grateful for that ability in the past. Granted, one of those times involved doing a little field surgery to repair ripped stitches- something Capable will ideally never have to do- but still. Useful life skill.

“Max, look,” Cheedo whispers, tugging his shirt's sleeve for attention. She points off towards an end-cap display of fairy lights, lit up and twinkling where they're wrapped around the wire shelving.

“Pretty,” he agrees, and she smiles.

“Can I get some for my room?” she asks, because of course she does.

Max casts his gaze towards where Furiosa is still talking about the logistics of sewing with Capable, and debates his answer. It's not a big purchase, but he's only been co-parenting for a few months now and doesn't want to seem like he's spoiling the girl, or somehow contradicting a decision Furiosa had made earlier.

“We'll ask,” he replies, and instantly she starts to pout, eyes wide.

“Please?” she says, which on the one hand makes him suspicious that he's being deliberately manipulated, but on the other hand... It's awfully hard to say no to her, especially when a box of lights is only a few dollars. She doesn't start whining, just looks forlornly towards the display until Max feels himself cave. He'll pay out of his own pocket and take any blame there might be; it won't be a problem.

Toast watches with an unimpressed eye as he walks over to the display with a now-smiling Cheedo, but says nothing. Up close, there's more choices than he anticipated, and Cheedo takes her time looking them all over.

“These ones,” she says decisively, hands around one of the most expensive boxes. The set she chose comes with colorful paper dragonflies fitted over the bulbs, which is a pretty effect- but not worth as much as the store is asking.

Max shakes his head, and gently takes the box away from her. “Could make our own,” he suggests as a compromise, “Choose all the colors, make them special.”

He doesn't think it will be too difficult to help Cheedo trace shapes onto tissue paper, since that's all it looks like there is to them, and they already have the supplies for that. Crafting was another thing he'd never never given much though to before moving in with Furiosa and her daughters, but it's turned out to be a rather large part of his life these days.

She contemplates this, looking between the sets of decorated and plain lights with an evaluative air. After along minute she nods, and grabs one of the far less expensive boxes off the shelf.

“I want to make one that looks like Mort,” Cheedo says and he hums in response, a little relieved that she hasn't decided to get stubborn about it.

“She's got you wrapped around her finger,” Toast says when they return to drop the box into the cart, and Max just shrugs helplessly. He knows he's a bit of a pushover when it comes to things like this but he doesn't like seeing any of the girls upset, and for a small thing like a string of lights, it just doesn't make sense to be overly strict.

Toast rolls her eyes at him and heads over to her mother, interrupting what's turned into a discussion of vintage fashion, from the sounds of it. “Can we just get some curtains and leave, _please_?”

“We're working on it,” Furiosa replies.

“Look, here, have some gross plain beige,” Toast says with a gesture towards one of the displays, which earns her a raised eyebrow. “I mean, 'sensible' plain beige. What _ever_.”

“They are kind of gross,” Capable says, and Furiosa closes her eyes and mutters something under her breath.

“We could just not have curtains at all,” she says louder, “I'm sure our neighbors would love that.”

“Ugh, Mrs. Peterson is so creepy,” Capable says with an exaggerated shiver. Silently, Max has to agree. The old woman across the street is harmless, but she has a tendency to stare off into space out her windows, and at night the effect is a bit unsettling.

Max looks around until he spots a fairly inoffensive set of drapes on display, a muted off-white color not unlike what the original fabric was. He makes a wordless noise to get Furiosa's attention and points at them, face questioning.

“We looked at those already,” she says, not bothering to move to see them up close. “They're embroidered, remember?”

Max squints at the hanging fabric, not remembering at all. He steps closer and- oh, there it is. White thread all over the place in a sort of paisley pattern. Not hideous, but not the sort of thing that would fit into her- into _their_ \- living room, either. He walks back towards the cart, wonders how a store with an entire section dedicated to nothing but curtains could have absolutely nothing suitable.

“Oh neat, sparkles,” Capable says idly, flapping a length of fabric that's got sequins sewn into it. Toast makes a disgusted noise and buries her head in her hands, grumbles something too quietly to be heard.

“I like it,” Cheedo says, and joins in on making the fabric dance in an imaginary breeze.

A salesperson makes as if to walk over, forced grin in place, but is quickly pulled aside by one of the other workers. Max tries not to feel too bad about his preemptive 'suggestion' that they be left alone- he's pretty sure this store doesn't work off commission, and it really is in everyone's best interest.

“If I don't find curtains that aren't hideous or crazy expensive in the next ten minutes,” Furiosa says quietly from besides him, “I'm either leaving empty handed or we're setting fire to this place.”

Max huffs out an amused breath, “I'll drive get-away.”

“Why is this so hard?” she asks, tone only half joking, “It's just fabric.”

He hums, noncommittal, and brings one of his hands up to gently rub at her shoulders. She sighs and wraps an arm around his middle, head rolling down to rest against his own, and the easy familiarity of such contact sets off a deep-set warmth in Max's chest. It was undeniably frustrating that this process was taking so long, frustrating that it even had to happen in the first place, but it was its own sort of rewarding, as well. At least, it seems that way when he contemplates the end result: a feathered nest for the girls that he'd helped contribute to.

“Ten minutes,” Furiosa repeats, and with a sigh unwraps herself from the loose embrace.

It doesn't take another ten minutes to find an acceptable set of curtains, but rather closer to half an hour. The subject of finding another store is raised and quickly dismissed, as is Toast's suggestion that they just tape trash bags over the windows.

Eventually though it's Toast who find the curtains they decide on at last, simple pale green with a not-too-busy leaf pattern. They're the right size to span the front windows, an acceptable price, a color no one objects to, and Cheedo even declares them pretty enough “for the living room, I guess.”

Thankfully, when they return home nothing else has burned down during their absence, though the project Dag continues to tinker away at still looks nothing at all like a lightbulb.


End file.
